


do the right thing

by clarkegrff (fayevsessays)



Series: the blue wallet rule [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3628428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayevsessays/pseuds/clarkegrff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not usually laying smack in the middle of the sidewalk just after noon. It’s almost disappointing. And it’s definitely not worth the trouble it’ll cause if someone spots her slipping it into her shoulder bag.</p><p>Which means she has to play good citizen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do the right thing

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt: finds the other persons wallet on the street and goes on a quest to give it back au  
> it's a really short quest though.

Usually when she’s staring at a wallet it’s in some drunk frat boy’s back pocket just asking for it or the inside suit pocket of a rushed businessman who’s flustered enough that someone has bumped into him to notice it missing until he’s unable to pay for the cab he took to the office.

It’s not usually laying smack in the middle of the sidewalk just after noon. It’s almost disappointing. And it’s definitely not worth the trouble it’ll cause if someone spots her slipping it into her shoulder bag.

Which means she has to play good citizen.

With a sigh, Lexa picks up the neon blue wallet off the floor before anyone else can accidentally kick it into the road. She frowns at the state of it, wiping the corner of it on her grey jeans to get the tiny bit of puddle off it. It’s blindingly bright so the dirt from the sidewalk shows up on it. It’s hurting her eyes.

People are walking around her now, muttering things under their breath because they think because she has headphones in that she’s listening to music. Wrong. Lexa purposely stands her ground when some asshole tries to walk through her and he gets the harder end of a shoulder barge.

Still she moves out of the way of walking traffic and unzips the wallet. There’s a bell on the zip, designed to alert someone to having their wallet stolen supposedly but it doesn’t do much if it’s been lost and Lexa’s hand is trained to be steady.

Lexa looks inside for some identification and comes across several coffee chain cards with stamps on them, a few tens and fives, a lot of receipts with doodled cartoons and various business cards with names starting with doctor on them. It’s a disorganized mess.

Eventually she finds what she was looking for; driver’s license.

The neon wallet belongs to a woman called Clarke Griffin. Who is apparently celebrating her birthday in two weeks. Lexa keeps the license out. Considering no one else has picked up the wallet before her, Lexa can assume that this Clarke has only just dropped it. Which is good, if it means she’s nearby, or bad if she’s suddenly gotten in her car and driven off.

Because as much as she’s got nothing to do today, Lexa really doesn’t want to have to haul her ass across town to mail the wallet back through this girl’s apartment or hand it into a police station where Clarke might find her wallet a little lighter.

Yeah, she’d really like to avoid the whole police thing in particular.

Lexa opens the wallet again and flips through the cards until she spots one of the paper coffee loyalty cards. The Ark Station and Grounderz are the most worn but Ark Station has the most stamps, and it’s about five minutes away.

She slips Clarke’s license into her pocket and puts the wallet in her backpack. Lexa doesn’t start up her music again, choosing to listen to people as they pass and watch their reactions as they see her. There’s something about grey jeans tucked into knee high leather boots, chain hanging from her belt, contrasting with a crisp blue button up shirt and black blazer, that really draws eyes to her.

Not that she minds, mostly. There was that one time that Anya started insisting she carry a switchblade after /everything/, that she became more aware of what she looks like walking into a room. Needless to say having to smile through a grimace as a couple of cops on their break exchanged small talk with her made her rethink her weapon concealment.

And the amount of eyeliner she puts on in the morning.

Ark Station is a chain coffee shop born from the success of the original store. It’s not really Lexa’s type. White tables that are ingrained with circles from cups that never really wash off no matter how many times someone cleans them. Fake plants in glass bubbles suspended from corners and bright lighting. It’s always full of Tondc students who enjoy that they can get away with being rude to the baristas because the guys behind the counter are always too busy to come up with a retort.

And of course there’s a little fucking bell on the door that jingles whenever someone comes in.

There’s a small line at the counter but the server at the register still looks over at her and offers her a small smile in greeting.

Lexa definitely doesn’t want to stick around longer than she needs to.

The ID is pulled out of her pocket and she glances around at the faces staring at laptops and books and trying not to fall asleep over their coffees. No one matches.

Then she looks at the line and sees that the hold up is because the woman, that Lexa can only hope is Clarke and not some crazy person in scrubs, is tipping most of the contents of her bag onto the counter while the server tries to keep her polite smile holding Clarke’s purchase hostage.

Lexa watches Clarke sift through a couple of pieces of paper, an iPad and various make up items and coming up empty. She gets a better look at her face and Lexa’s eyes flicker to the little beauty mark above her lips. At least she’s found the right person.

Clarke’s just turning to apologise, again, to the disgruntled boy behind her when Lexa fishes Clarke’s wallet out of her bag and steps up to the counter.

Lexa’s pretty good at downplaying things so she just takes one of her earbuds out, clears her throat and offers up Clarke’s blue wallet to her. The driver’s license pressed under her thumb as if Clarke would mistake it for someone else’s.

“That’s-” Clarke’s voice is low. The kind Anya would joke about being husky because she’s aware of what a good voice does to Lexa. “-my wallet.”

The server looks super relieved at this announcement.

Lexa pushes it forward a little, urging Clarke to take it. It snaps Clarke into motion and as she relieves her of it, Clarke’s fingers just brush over hers.

This apparently causes the floodgates to open.

“Thank you so much.” Clarke unzips it and fishes out the money for her coffee without even looking inside to check if everything was there. She replaces the license where Lexa found it and puts her change away. Lexa can’t even make a quick yet undisturbed retreat because Clarke is stuffing things into her bag and beaming at her. It’s unnerving. “Where did you find it? I swear I had it in my pocket with me like five minutes ago and I get to the front of the line and- well you saw the mess.”

She laughs at her own misfortune and Lexa can only nod. Her silence is mistaken for something else.

“That’ll teach me, right?” Clarke slips her wallet into her bag instead of the pocket of her light grey zip up hoody. “Sorry, this is super rude of me-”

Lexa isn’t sure where manners play into this.

Clarke gestures to her cup. “Let me buy you a coffee or something. To say thanks. I’m pretty sure I have about $30 in here which usually would be the first thing to go on losing your wallet, and it’s all there-”

It’s not amusing to have someone imply that they’re grateful you’re not a thief, considering Lexa is giving Clarke her wallet back to avoid the hassle, but Lexa raises an eyebrow at Clarke anyway and watches as the woman backtracks into a polite fluster. “Not that I’m saying you could have- wow, again. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Is all Lexa can find to say as she finds all of this ironic. She twists the earbud of her headphone between her fingers. “I saw it on the ground back there-” She doesn’t gesture. “-figured I’d try and find you.”

It’s a statement of fact but Clarke’s face softens and she looks so damn grateful that Lexa is a little uncomfortable.

Lexa glances at the Ark Station and it’s ‘too-white’ interior and politely declines Clarke’s offer of a drink. (It’s not you, it’s your taste in establishments.)

“Alright, stranger” Clarke’s stance shifts and she alludes confidence. Lexa combats this by tilting her head up slightly. “Refuse the coffee, how about your number for a good deed?”

“I’ve done my good deed.” Lexa says.

Clarke ‘mhmm’s’ with an arm crossing over her body to support her elbow as she takes a sip of her coffee. “And I’m trying to do one back.”

It’s not the worst line she’s heard. And with friends like Anya, she’s heard a lot.

Whatever, Lexa might as well get something out of this.

Clarke looks practically gleeful when Lexa asks for her phone. It would be kind of funny if she were to suddenly take off with this expensive looking, and fucking gold colored, iPhone 6 after making the effort to return Clarke’s wallet.

(But really she’s not about letting her mark’s get a good look at her face when she’s picking their pocket).

Lexa taps open the notes app (no password either, this girl is a dream target) and offers up her email, in lieu of her number because she’s not stupid, linked to her personal mobile; a piece of shit blackberry that is about as easy to unlock as getting into bed with her.

Which, contrary to popular belief, is hard.

Clarke sweeps over the screen when Lexa hands it back. Her hair is falling out of her ponytail, it’s all wavy and irritating for someone who spends as long as Lexa does trying to make sure every inch of her braided, dreaded and generally unruly hair is tied back neatly. If she finds Lexa’s avoidance tactic frustrating she doesn’t show it, and she doesn’t ask for her number again.

Whatever she adds to the note is short and Clarke slips her phone away again.

Lexa bites her tongue on advice about adding a password to her phone and a hundred other pieces of advice that would make Clarke more of a challenge. In a work sense.

“You sure I can’t tempt you?” Clarke sways on her feet because she thinks it’s enticing Lexa in. Maybe it’s working more than Lexa will let on but she’s spent more time in the last few minutes thinking about it than she should. And there’s definite warning signs that come with the medical scrubs and flirtatious nature.

Lexa’s days of being a sucker for an easy target are far behind her.

“No,” Lexa gives her a sincere smile. “but thank you.”

Her earbud is in and Clarke knows a brush off, no matter how a smile paints it. She steps aside letting Lexa walk on, but without music playing Lexa still hears her say ‘thank you’ once again.

Lexa shoves her hands deep in her pocket and clasps her pocket knife and her keys and doesn’t listen to her music until she’s drowning out the sounds of the subway instead of Clarke’s laughter.

~ 

Lexa is emptying the contents of some boy’s Captain America velcro wallet in Anya’s apartment a couple of days later when her phone beeps and distracts her.

(In fairness there’s not much in terms of spoils to get her to ignore the sound. A couple of dollars and a voucher for a free shake the next time she feels like dropping by Monty’s. But it was clipped to his belt, daring her, and Lexa still managed to relieve him of it.)

The alert offers a pleasant surprise. Her cracked screen pulls up an email from a //cgriff// re: good deed that Lexa clicks through, interested peaked, and comes across the words ‘itunes gift card worth $30’.

The same amount Clarke had on her.

Lexa falls back on the couch, kicking her bare feet over the arm of the chair and feels kind of glad that she didn’t actually fall for the easy mark.

It’s signed off: better than coffee?

Lexa can live with one good deed, she supposes.

~


End file.
